


Dampened

by risotto



Category: Free!
Genre: Anal Sex, Bed-Humping, Dreams, Fantasizing, Frotting, Gift Fic, M/M, Makoto's Birthday Exchange 2015, Male Solo, Masturbation, Not Quite Bara Tiddies, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 00:31:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5143700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risotto/pseuds/risotto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amazing what a little cold water and a strong breeze could do to a guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dampened

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rolic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rolic/gifts).



> For the amazing **Rolic** who, on the Makoto Birthday Exchange, requested—  
>  "I'd love to see either Rin or Sousuke (or both) fantasizing about Makoto. If NSFW I'd love to see a work in which they masturbate solo while thinking about the Iwatobi captain."
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy!

It’s late and dark when Sousuke turns over in his bed onto his back, unable to sleep. He’s relaxed and, for once, his thoughts are clear and untroubled, his body warm. He shrugs inwardly, deciding it’s as good a time as any to masturbate.

He’s pretty confident he can get away with it without his roommate even knowing, to boot. He’s eighteen, which means he’s done it plenty of times before to know how to reel it in, so to speak.

Unlike Rin, who’s never as inconspicuous as he himself might believe. Sousuke can say two things with the utmost confidence: one, that earbuds are absolute shit at canceling noise; and two, Rin has some kind of swimmer fetish, as he’s jerked off to everyone from Nathan Adrian to Ryosuke Irie to even his former team captain.

Sousuke wonders if Rin’s ever masturbated to anyone from Iwatobi. It’s a stray thought, one he’s even entertained himself a time or two. He wonders if Rin would go for Haru, or surprise everyone and go for someone like Nagisa. Or maybe he’s some kind of size queen who’d take Makoto instead.

Sousuke wouldn’t blame him if he did. It’s hard not to notice Makoto, what with him being, by far, the biggest member of the Iwatobi team. He’d always been big, actually, ever junior high school, when he towered over Sousuke himself—a pride-destroying fact Kisumi couldn’t ever shut up about back then.

Just thinking about that pink-haired airhead made his jaw clench in annoyance. And with good reason—Kisumi had been the one to interrupt them on that fateful day.

The day of the Samezuka festival. The day of the survival water fight.

Actually, Kisumi hadn’t interrupted—he  _interfered_ , now that Sousuke thinks about it. He can’t remember a lot of details from that day, can only recall the outcome of the water fight, the resolution of most of his personal issues with Nana— _Haru_ , and, of course, his brief showdown with Makoto.

He’s wondered once or twice since then how things would have turned out had Kisumi not been there. Would Makoto have won over him? Would Sousuke have somehow turned the tables and pushed Makoto up against the wall…

Sousuke stops that train of thought there and waits a moment, breath held tight as he checks for any signs that Rin might be awake.

Much to Sousuke’s relief, Rin is sound asleep, breathing softly and nestled comfortably against his adored pillow in the bottom bunk.

Once the coast is clear, Sousuke sneaks his hand down beneath the sheets and into his pajama pants, lets the callused pads of his fingers graze his cock. He’s not fully erect yet, but given enough time, he will be. He shivers at his own touch and in the haze of arousal and lust; his eyes blink shut and his mind drifts.

 

*

 

His heavy eyelids lift a moment later, and he finds himself back in that moment in Samezuka’s courtyard, his back to the brick wall of a building, a water gun in his hands. Just as he remembers, only Kisumi isn’t there to serve as his human shield this time. It’s just him and Makoto.

“It’s over!”

And exactly like Sousuke remembers it, Makoto darts out from around the corner of the building, aims his water gun, and fires.

Sousuke resigns to his fate though not without a desperate, last-minute counterattack of his own. He squeezes the trigger on his own water gun—in vain, really, as only a few drops of water remain. As expected, he’s hit by cold water and drenched.

Makoto is too, for some reason. Weird. Wasn’t Sousuke’s gun practically empty a moment ago? Most of the spray got into Makoto’s hair, making the thick strands matted and spiked like a wet cat’s fur.

Cute. But not so much when he thinks of carding his fingers through it.

Sousuke concedes to his opponent with a, “Looks like you win, Makoto,” just as Makoto quips with his own, “Looks like I win, Sousuke.”

They share a small laugh at their jinx.

“It’s hard to tell that I won though,” Makoto remarks, looking himself over, “I’m sopping wet.”

Sopping wet isn’t that far off from the truth. His shirt is soaked thoroughly, the fabric clinging tight to the contours of Makoto’s muscular body like a second skin.

The wind picks up. It’s not yet truly autumn, though the warmest days of summer are long gone so the wind carries with it a biting sharpness. Combined with the water, Makoto must be freezing, too. Sousuke can’t feel it himself, because he’s burning all over, and once he notices the outline of a stiff nipple through the near-transparent material of Makoto’s wet shirt, he’s  _parched_.

“Maybe we should turn ourselves in?” Makoto suggests. “I think I saw Rin and Rei by one of the classrooms.”

Maybe. Sousuke wasn’t paying much attention to them—which is how he ended up getting lost and winding up here in the courtyard with Makoto in the first place. He can’t say he feels guilty about it, though. More of that guilt’s reserved for how he wants to remain anchored in this strangely calming and secluded area with Makoto and Makoto only.

“We could,” Sousuke says, and then he looks between Makoto and the fork in the path before them. One route leads to the Samezuka dormitories, the other back towards the heart of the festival activities. “But, like this?”

“Mm? What do you mean ‘like this’?” Makoto tilts his head. A tiny drop of water falls from the tip of his bangs and lands, undisturbed, onto his cupid’s bow.

Once Sousuke can easily imagine licking it off, he turns away from him, indifferent only in appearance. “What I mean is, you’re drenched, your teeth are chattering and it’s windy. You’ll— _we’ll_  freeze if we don’t dry off and take off these wet clothes.”

They just got to a first name basis and already Sousuke wanted to strip him down and fuck him. Amazing what a little cold water and a strong breeze could do to a guy.

Makoto looks himself over again. “Oh...you’re absolutely right. Let’s go get warmed up, Sousuke.”

Then he begins to walk on ahead of Sousuke, stopping when he realizes the other boy isn’t following him right away. He shoots Sousuke a knowing look over his shoulder, a certain glint in his eyes making them wide and bright.

“Are you going to come?”

 

*

 

Across the hall, a door creaks and groans as it opens and slams shut.

“Momo-kun, keep it down! You don’t want Yamazaki-senpai finding out, do you?”

Sousuke starts, eyes snapping open and hands darting on top of the covers in panic.

It’s Mikoshiba and Nitori. Why they’re out and about this late at night and making a racket in the halls, who knows. It’s the second time this week. Sousuke’s got a good mind to head out there and give those two the third degree.

But he can’t. Not unless he wants them to see him like this, when he’s so hard and hot and aching all over.

Pushing all thoughts of murdering his underclassmen aside, he tries to settle back into that moment, letting his fingers—now cold from their exposure to the September night—trail up his chest and circle over his nipple, wondering if Makoto’s will feel the same.

He licks his chapped lips, pulls at the drawstrings of his pants, and palms himself again. His eyelids lower until his vision shifts from inky darkness to a brighter version of his room, soft and yellow from the afternoon sun, the sky impossibly blue when seen through the window.

He envisions himself walking into his room and catches a glimpse of drenched brown hair, the thick strands matted and spiked like a wet cat’s fur...

 

*

 

Makoto’s standing shirtless in the center of the room, his physique impressive as ever, the sinew and defined lines practically gleaming in the generous sunlight pouring in.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says in a soft purr, holding up one of Sousuke’s button-up shirts he found lying around. It’s one from the bum pack Sousuke’s mother had purchased in the wrong size. They’re tight around Sousuke’s arms and chest; and if _he_ can’t button it up, then Makoto has no hope.

But Sousuke won’t warn him of that. Rather, he tells him it’s okay and watches with mixed amusement and arousal as Makoto struggles to put the shirt on. It fits better around his shoulders than Sousuke’s but not by much. The buttons are stubborn for him too, particularly around his broad torso, leaving him with no choice but to allow the shirt to hang.

“Looks like I bit off more than I can chew.” Makoto lets out a self-effacing smile. “It shouldn’t be bad like this though, right?”

The unbuttoned shirt falls open, exposing the well-defined contours of Makoto’s chest. Smooth pectorals and stiff nipples and all.

Not bad at all.

 

*

 

Sousuke’s given up any pretenses on being subtle. Both of his hands work in tandem—the fingertips of his right hover by his mouth, soaked and teased by his sticky tongue before reaching down to tease his own chest; his left is a little bolder, curling around himself without shame. He nearly reels from the rush of pleasure of just his touch. His dick is hot in his palm, from the swollen head down the length of his shaft, to the coarse curls at the base. His dick twitches just as his fingertips graze the slippery flesh right beneath his glans. Fuck. Every part of him feels like it’s on fire.

He wonders how long he’ll be able to last like this. Not much longer, he presumes once he rubs at his balls then finally— _finally_ —moves his hands along himself.

 

*

 

Sousuke and Makoto have given up any pretenses on being subtle with their flirting. Things naturally progressed, having gone from coy glances and suggestive words to the next, most logical phase: licking and groping each other as they stumble-step towards the bottom bunk.

Rin’s bed.

Sousuke doubts Rin would ever forgive him if he knew just what they’re about to do in it. But at the moment, he doesn’t care.

Once they’re both in and as Sousuke buries his face in Makoto’s chest and nips and sucks and licks at his flesh, Makoto’s behavior turns to something more than just a little passive. His hand reaches down between their bodies and he takes him—takes them _both_ —into his fist, pumping them together with slow and measured strokes.

 

*

 

Somehow, Sousuke’s managed to roll over onto his stomach without disturbing Rin in the bed below him.

It’s not the wisest method for someone trying to be discreet, but from firsthand experience and knowledge, Sousuke knows it’s the best position for exactly what he wants.

Still stroking himself, he rolls his hips, rubbing the swollen and wet tip of his cock, up and down, on the mattress. Sousuke bites his lip as he buries his face in his pillow, muffling a soft groan when one particular touch with just the right amount of pressure sends a jolt up his spine. He tightens the muscles in his lower back and ass and thrusts his pelvis forward, seeking more of that sensation.

He’s picturing things clearly now, as if they’re unfolding right in front of him in his own bed instead of in his hazy, distorted thoughts. Even though he’s more or less orchestrating this with his imagination, it still causes a hot thrill to spread out over his body when he thinks he’s actually fucking Makoto.

In the midst of his rutting and jerking, Sousuke wonders should this fantasy of his ever come to life, if Makoto would ever want him to top. Hell, he wouldn’t object if Makoto wanted him to bottom instead.

 

 

*

 

In Sousuke’s fantasy world, Makoto bottoms. And happily.

They’re still in the bedroom and Sousuke’s fucking him as hard as he can. It doesn’t make sense how it got to this point but Sousuke can’t be bothered to care. Makoto’s hands are fisted in the bedspread, his skin is flushed, his legs are spread, his knees are touching his shoulders, and—

He’s taking it. All of it. He takes every pound of Sousuke’s hips against his own, eagerly, rocking back into him and moaning for more. Begging for it in that sweet, whiny voice of his.

“Harder, Sousuke. Please...”

Sousuke comes, hard and fast, spilling hot over Makoto’s chest and stomach without shame. For a painfully short, blissful moment, his vision is pure white and Makoto’s name is a thick murmur on his lips.

 

 

*

 

Sousuke has to blink his way back to himself when he’s unable to distinguish his reality from his fantasy within the darkness of his room. His thoughts are muzzy and clouded one moment, then keen and hyper-aware once he realizes that he just jacked off to a fantasy of a guy he barely knows.

There’s a thick and sticky mess all over Sousuke’s bedsheets. He’s going to have to clean that up somehow.

“You done yet?”

Sousuke jumps. It’s Rin.

 _Fuck_.

No point or sense in denying what happened now. Sousuke exhales, wipes at the sweat dotting his brow with his sleeve. “Yeah,” he croaks.

“Good. Was worried you were possessed or something.”

Only by the desire to fuck Makoto’s brains out. “Nn.”

“Were you dreaming you were a cowboy in a rodeo? Or in the middle of a magnitude eight earthquake?”

“Stop fishing for details, Rin,” Sousuke grumbles as he bundles up his sheets. There’s a laundry room on this floor, down the hall. He can clean these and come back within an hour without anyone else knowing if he moves quick enough. Although  _that_  might be tricky—as he climbs down his ladder to the floor, he winces. He’s sore, his muscles are spent, and he’s tired.

Damn. Even imaginary sex takes a lot out of him.

Sousuke’s not even at the door when Rin’s words stop him one last time. “By the way...”

Sousuke sighs, exasperated, staring at the doorknob and not bothering to face his friend. “What?”

“I heard you groan out his name.”

God damn it.

“But don’t worry,” Rin adds, a smile audible in his voice, “I won’t tell.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, I always pictured Sousuke as really into bed-humping. 
> 
> (I need coffee and help.)


End file.
